


Tranquillity

by Vixilancia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:00:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixilancia/pseuds/Vixilancia





	1. New and Old

A boat crossed the open water, carried across the water by the strongest arms in thedas. Paddles leaving ripples in their wake. He looked at his friend, dead in the eyes, emotionless as a broken mirror. With newfound anger, the warden continued his assault on the open water.

“Take me back to the circle, I should to go back to the circle.”

Jowan had already tried to tip the boat, twice but his more emotional companion knew better of it. Or at least this is what he told himself. Where was he even going, what was he going to do with him.

Anders had told him about Karl, about how he would get him back for a few seconds. Hope was the only thing he needed right now. This was the circles fault, they just boxed up the tranquil like property, like they were lesser. Hearing of the conclave, he knew there was only one way this could go. Terribly.

Mages and Templars all in one location? A terrible idea. When those circles rebelled it was awful. He understood what his friend did he only wished he had forewarning for this. He couldn't believe the Mages just left the tranquil. 

The fade strengthened then weakened, and Amell felt it pump through his veins. Something really terrible was about to happen, he just knew it. Without even thinking about it he dropped his paddles and places a hand over Jowan’s eyes. A split second later, the sky opened. The bright burning green light completely blinding him. Amell could hear it all however, a bang, a rip, then demonic shrieking.

“The sky is greener than your eyes,” Jowan said with the usual sense of unfeeling. 

“Yes Jowan, and I can't see, and we are stuck in the middle of Lake Calenhad with no paddle!”

Amell almost thought he caught of confusion in Jowan’s voice. He was wrong and he knew he was. After seemingly debating it, Jowan managed to throw the boat sideways. Jowan didn't know he couldn't feel, they both plunged into the water. 

Amell can't swim.

Nathaniel and Anders stood at the edge of the lake, watching the solemn scene before them. Hearing the boat fall in the water sent floods of anxiety into Anders .

“Amell!” he shouted , “kick your legs up! Don't let yourself sink any further!” he passes her staff to Nathaniel. “Be safe my love.” 

And with that he jumped into the water.

Drowning isn't a nice feeling. Slowed down time. Every attempted breath feeling like a salt fire in your lungs. Amell still couldn't see, he was moving his hands wildly trying to find him. Then he remembered, Jowan can swim, he can fucking swim.

Amell felt himself relax more, he could fight he could thrash, but the ripples Jowan made in the water kept him still.

Amell just felt like he'd been waiting waiting to die since Jowan saved his life using the worst kind of magic, waiting to die since killing that damned joke of a dragon. Riordan told him he was going to die, why didn't he die. 

He felt arms around him, he still couldn't see. Was he dying? He didn't feel arms around him when he died before. It wasn't any matter. He fought against the arms pulling him upwards. He passed out before they even reached the surface.

Nathaniel discarded his cape and wrapped it around Jowan. It was sort of unsettling seeing someone spoke of as so lifeful this way. Anders was still in the water, but Nathaniel trusted Anders to pull him up. 

Just as he was starting to worry, he saw them, Anders gasping for breath with Amell unresponsive in his arms. 

When they were back on shore they couldn't seem to get Amell to get up, he was breathing but, no response. Anders thought for a hard moment before calling on Justice. They had been dormant for so long and they liked it that way. But, this was an emergency.

Instead of turning to Amell, Justice turned to Jowan. Placing hands of blue fire on his shoulders. Something clicked in Jowan’s head. He was almost about to break down until he looked at the ground. Then, he got his game face on.

He began to punch? Yes, punch. He was punching Amell in the chest like a woman who'd been cheated on 6 times. Justice and Nathaniel looked down in slight horror until Amell began to cough up water. He jolted upright, coughing. 

He looked to his side, the first look of hope he'd had for years. He saw that fire in Jowan’s eyes for a split second. He knew he saw it. He looked up, Justice bright and blue standing over him.

Nathaniel lent a hand to help Amell up, who was immediately tackled by Jowan, Amell embracing him and lifting him off the floor. They didn't have to speak, the silence and the feeling was enough.

As soon as Amell began to set Jowan down, he felt him go stiff, ridged, like a doll. He looked at his friend, his hair was dripping and awfully long. He made a note to give him a haircut a little later. 

“Luckily,” Justice said, “you aren't very close to any rifts. You need to get somewhere safe. I suggest lothering.”

Amell gave him an affirming nod.

With that, Nathaniel took Anders and his live-in roommate back to the vigil, and Amell carted Jowan to Lothering. But not before Justice handed him a slip of paper:

Call the fade. Don't feel it. Call it.


	2. Fear and Lothering

Amell scurried into lothering like a lost cat, ushering Jowan in front of him like he was herding cattle. If the cattle were unresponsive shells. Wait, bad thought, he should feel that way. Jowan was still a person. He deserved respect even if it was only in his head.

He remembered the last time he was here, 10 years ago. Crazy how things had changed yet so much had stayed the same. Some for the better and some for the worse, he guessed. 

Last time he was here, people shouting at each other in the street. No sense of solidarity. Only greed and anger. Not like it was the end of the world or anything. At least he himself wasn't such an angry little shit now.

Somehow, in some sick way, this was worse than the blight. A few darkspawn can be killed, an archdemon can be killed. But? An endless pit of demons? Undying numbers of them? It was too much for anyone to handle. 

At least his friends couldn't be dragged into this mess on some kind of formality of blood. Yes, Amell had saved each one of them, but he couldn't get past the crippling guilt. He'd sentenced them all to death, a dammed worse end than anything else. It was slow, it was drawn out, it was painful.

He didn't see any refugees, only a handful of people, a few mages kicking some templars in the balls off in the distance. Best just, scoot past them. 

“The templars protect us, why are they hurting them?” Jowan asked.

“The templars are captors to us and each other, they deserve this, they've made their bed.”

Jowan didn't say anything else. 

They walked into the tavern. Amell half expected to be attacked like the last time. He wouldn't have any beautiful women coming to his aid this time however. 

Amell silently passed 10 sovereigns to the owner and ignored the look of ‘oh my god the hero of ferelden’ and helped Jowan up the stairs.

Amell paced up and down the small tavern room. Call the fade, don't feel it, call it? What did that even mean. They'd been in this tavern for weeks now. The sky healed itself for all but 5 seconds then came back, but at least the mess had stopped growing.

He was so very glad he didn't need to fight any demons on the way, they seemed to stay completely off them. Maybe Lothering was a low risk area, must have been why Justice suggested it. 

Jowan sat on the bed, his resting face always looked so sad. It was such a gift to have him back, even for seconds. He picked up some scissors from the bedside table and sat down in front of him. Beginning to chop down Jowan’s hair.

He knew it was slightly hypocritical, having not cut his hair since he was 16 but, had to be done. When he was finished he leant back to look at his work, he didn't do badly, he'd cut his daughters hair before Jowan’s wasn't any different. It was slightly shorter than it was before all this happened. Amell even cut him in a fringe. He wasn't sure if it was to conceal his brands or enable him lying to himself, but if was a vast improvement.

“Do tranquil sleep,” Amell asked, pressing his hand to the others cheek.

“We can sleep, we don't dream.” 

Amell already knew that. 

He laid down, mentally drained, and put his hands over his face. This was the worst. What did he think saving Jowan would accomplish. No amount of arcane warrior bullshit was going to get through to Jowan. Nothing.

Call the fade

Don't feel it

Call it.

Amell shot up like a jack in the box, what if he could? No it was stupid. But then why would justice tell him that. Nothing made any sense anymore. 

Using his power was feeling it? But what if he called it instead, not feeling the fade, almost becoming a walking vessel for it. He activated his fade cloak for the first time in 9 years. And fell down through the floor, deactivating it split seconds before smashing onto the tavern owners desk. 

Clearly, he was out of practice with this thing. He handed them another 20 sovereigns, and stood up from the splintered halves of the desk. Not saying another word as he clambered back into his room. 

He entered and sat back down, curling into a ball around the bedsheets. He'd kill for any kind of comfort right now.

Jowan laid next to him, and Amell, again, wasn't sure If it was nurture or formality. Amell closed his eyes. Mental strain finally creeping into physical exhaustion. 

“Thank you,” Jowan said, almost as a formality, but something else lined lined it, something almost emotional”

Amell was caught off guard at that, “For, what?”

“Everything.”


	3. Symbolism and Change

Jowan and Amell sat at opposing sides of the bed, neither of them tired. They hadn't been outside in too long, almost felt like it was the circle. Amell thought it might convince the other not to pull another lake stunt.

Amell looked around, or at least tried to. Ever since the sky opened he had these dark blotches surrounding his vision. As if he'd looked at a candle burning for too long, apart from it wouldn't go away, it almost seemed worse with time. 

“Where did you learn it,” Amell asked, distracting himself and in the process breaking the almost month long silence. 

“Be more specific if you want an answer,” Jowan replied with the usual monotone voice of complete unfeeling. 

“The blood magic, the time you you used it to save my life,” he instinctively grabbed his friend by the shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes, “it was the most incredible thing I've heard of.” 

Jowan looked at him blankly, “I learnt a little from Aaliyah, after that I was filled with compelling hunger for it. I wanted more.”

Aaliyah Surana? the woman who was seducing all the chantry sisters? She got to Lily before Jowan even tried if Amell remembered it correctly. Funny thing. 

Besides all the seduction and the occasional bursts of fire, She never stuck out much. Maybe that was her exact intention. They'd spent time together, but he never really knew anything about her. She didn't let him in and he respected her for that. He wondered if maybe Jowan knew more about her. He hoped she made it through all this mess. 

Amell stretched his legs out a little, this room was far to small for someone as tall as him, especially with another person. He was full of aches and cramps from not being able to move much. But this was the best alternative.

At least Jowan was small, but it lead to thinking, did they even feed the tranquil? They must have? But he was so thin, unnaturally thin. Amell felt himself build up with rage, with nothing to sate it.

They had to go to the market. They'd been in the room a month. They'd broke everything in it twice. Maybe it was time to move on. They couldn't stay here forever. 

As his thought faded, a demon burst through the floor. Jowan recoiled back, but not far. Tranquil don't fear. How did Amell not sense this. 

The thing lunged towards Jowan. He didn't scream. He didn't move. And red hot blood poured down his face at an alarming rate. He didn't even close his eyes. Like he was paralysed not with fear but something entirely different. 

Thinking quickly without time to grab his sword, Amell grappled it's upper limbs trying to wrestle it into submission. This thing was having none of It.

He tried to study the demon quickly, from what he could see it was large. Taller than him. Limbs spindling like branches of a tree. It seemed to be tree like in structure too. It shrieked like a motherfucker, so loud it hurt. 

He tried to use his fade cloak again to no avail. His magic had been all over the place since the breach. What was even happening anymore? An arcane warrior who can't even use his cloak. He'd become so proficient at everything else.

The demon head butted him, making him stumble. Amell pivoted on his heels, trying to find him. It sprang up from the floor again, smashing Amell into the ground. It screeched into his face, cold-wind-like breath making his eyes water.

He closed his eyes and threw the hardest punch he could, landing straight into the demons sharpened teeth. It surprised even Amell.

His knuckles bled from the sharpness. He couldn't even feel the cuts sprawling across his knuckles like lighting. The demon wailing like thunder. He couldn't stop to care. He just kept punching. Like he was trying to carve the face itself. 

He threw hooks into the creatures face until the jagged, tree like mockery of a face until it's limbs stopped sprawling. Amell looked up wide eyed from underneath it. Breathing like a mabari who hadn't drank in days. He kicked it's limped body away from the both of them and hurried over to Jowan’s side.

Jowan once again sat unmoving. He spoke again, “Amell, we have to leave, I recommend-”

“Yes, back to the circle. Not happening,” Amell interrupted moving his hands to rip a shred of the bed sheet and press it to Jowan’s forehead. “We aren't going anywhere just yet. Why don't we have poultices?”

“A poultice wouldn't work on this.”

Amell tutted and continued to paw at the large gash. It wasn't very dissimilar to bandaging Liora’s feet, that girl had a natural aversion to proper footwear. Shianni’s natural influence no doubt. 

Amell mimicked some bandages with the rest of the bedsheets. It was a very good job he'd already cut Jowan’s hair. 

They came down the stairs. Silence. The bodies of the patrons and tiny amount of guests all lying dead. Amell spotted a longsword laying in the sticky aging blood. He picked it up and offered it to Jowan.

“I cannot always protect you. This can't happen again. You have to use this if you are in danger.”

“I don't know how to use a sword.”

“I’ll teach you but I can't do it here. We have to leave.”

They walked out the door with the same questions as when they walked in, this time swords in hand. They didn't have proper armor yet and Amell couldn't strip it from the dead like he used to. This was different. After what happened, Amell would never put down his sword ever again.


	4. Royalty and Friendship

They walked down a woodland road, the fastest way to the capital. If they could stop by the dalish and find themselves a bow that would be a blessing.

“Are we lost?” Jowan asked.

“No Jowan, I know these woods.”

He did know them, even a few days as a beast gave him the knowledge of the forest. Soon after, they approached the clearing. It was completely empty apart from a few scattered chests.

They were open, nothing really of note. However, he did find a sylvanwood bow, light fast and good, and a handful of arrows. It would be enough. He turned, not seeing Jowan. 

“God the fuck maker damn it Jowan”, he sighed, standing up and moving to place the bow on his back before deciding it was better placed in his hands. 

He stalked the nature around him, circling the clearing. He couldn't see much at this point, but he could hear. The crunch of the leaves under his light boots were nothing. 

A branch snapped, his head darted up. He could hardly make out anything at all. He shut his eyes, remembering the camp as it once was, trying to get a visual on something, anything. He snapped his fade cloak on, feeling it encapsulate his skin.

He remembered what Justice had told him. All that call the fade crap. Send a raven into it? Call to its bonding? Stupid so damn stupid. Maybe it was a reference to the calling, singing a song in his head. 

He stood still, calling the fade like summoning a blizzard. 

He opened his eyes again, vision black, but everything living outlined with a shroud of white, apart from something in the distance. He saw two figures, they were fighting, one trying to grapple the other. One in white, the other in a darker shade. Like it was burnt. 

He laced up an arrow, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he was right. it sliced through the bright ones’ forehead. 

He saw the other one barrelling towards him and thought of two possibilities. The first, that this was the man he'd sworn to protect. The second, that this was a bandit, a thug, trying to kill him. Both possible sides sounded good to him.

The figure jumped at him, and he caught them. They felt like Jowan, they smelt like Jowan. He felt relief for the first time in a long time. But it was short lived. He felt whatever this was stab his upper back, it would have been his neck with better Aim. 

He slumped back, Jowan falling from his arms, falling into the grass. He saw another two figures approaching, before he could even attempt to see, darkness took over him.

Amell woke up surrounded by silk sheets, he didn't know where he was. He anxiously darted his head around. His vision was still getting worse getting worse. He saw what looked like Jowan and sighed a little in relief.

“You are awake,” he said.

Amell sat up, having a familiar feeling of a headache pound at him.

“What happened,” he said as he groaned, trying to touch his upper back, “Jowan if we’re in a circle i am never speaking to you ever again.”

Amell heard clicking of heels on the floor before hearing a familiar comforting voice, “He sent word of where you were,” she snapped with an unwavering strong tone of authority, “What are you doing on this suicide mission! You have friends and you can ask them for help!”

Amell could barely make out anything. He could make out a shred of long blonde hair and expensive looking pink robes.

He spluttered, “Anora?”

She sat on the bed and punched him in the chest, her strength making him wince, “Yes you idiot, Alistair and I all but dragged you in by your hair!”

He put his head in his hands. Alistair? He was still trying to help after all Amell had done to him. 

“There is no time for self pity, we find you unconscious, in the middle of the woods. With the man who poisoned the late Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. Who is a tranquil.”

He put his hands on either side of her shoulders, staring into her icy eyes, “Anora, I know there's a cure for this. There has to be, I can bring him back, only for seconds,” he stops for a moment, excited tone becoming one of desperation, “I know there's a cure. There has to be.” 

Anora shrugged off his gentle hand, “The inquisitor, this child in power, they all but buried Haven.”

She stood, the wind of her hair spinning making Amell as cold as her demenor, “And, I'm getting you an invitation to a ball, in orlais.”

“Why, in ever, would I want to be in Orlais right now.”

“Empress Celine, as much as I dislike the woman is about to be assassinated. You are the perfect non political person to send.

He blinked in disbelief, “Who, who's taking care of my- Jowan while I'm at a party with terrible food saving a terrible diplomat.”

“I'll have Raphael keep him guard.”

“My, you're going to have my dead friends dog, loom after Jowan.”

She laughed, “Oh Amell, I'm not that ferelden. I'll keep an eye on him.”

“Fine, I'll go. Just tailor me something to wear I can't walk into somewhere like this, in a shirt that's two halves sewed together.”

Around a month passed, they'd send word to the Vigil that Amell needed his second. He'd never known anyone to travel as fast and light as Nathaniel.

A set of warden robes each, so meticulous in design it was a wonder how they finished so quickly. They both shrugged them on, more for diplomacy than armor, no weapons allowed. They'd see about that one. 

“Nate,” Amell said, “blue and suits you like you were born to be in it”

Nathaniel laughed, draining the tenxhio in the air, “Well wasn't I?”

The calm was short lived as the severity of the situation sank in, save the empress, stop the war, don't get killed in the process. 

Solid plan.


End file.
